Learn to Love Again
by Ramonks33
Summary: AU: 1920's. Luke Castallan, head of the gang on 45th street, is about done with life. Drinking himself into stupor every other day, and with his gang on the edge of mutiny, he's about ready to leave. But when he is forced to negotiate with a Miss Thalia Grace, does he find a reason to stay? Thuke fic, another collaboration with the same person I wrote FtFLaB. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Learn to Love Again, chapter 1

_A/N: Hello, everybody! So, if you remember my story "From the Frontlines and Back", I collabarated with the same person again, and we've started this fic, 1920's era, and infusing some Percy Jackson! If you enjoy the Roarin' Twenties, and Thalia and Luke, please enjoy!_

It was February of 1921. Pretty damn cold around that time up in New York. A man by the name of Luke Callestan was sitting in a bar. A black market bar, of course. Alcohol was banned. His gang had run the bar at night. And he got all of his drinks for free. It was half past one in the morning. He sat, downing drink after drink. 5 o'clock shadow was prominent on his face. He looked exhausted. Tired. He sighed softly and reached inside his suit jacket pocket to pull out a pack of Chesterfield cigarettes. He pulled one out and lit it with a match, sticking it between his lips and taking in a long draw, slowly exhaling as the smoke plumed from his lips. He grabbed the shot of green whiskey he had ordered and downed it almost instantly. The amber liquid burning his throat and stomach. The feeling was almost welcoming. He came here nearly every night to drink away his sorrows. It would all come crashing back down on him later, though. He didn't care. He could forget for a while. Tomorrow was Sunday; which meant he didn't have to go to work. He could sleep in. But the hangover would still be there. It always was. He heard the door open and quickly glanced down at his violin case which concealed his 1919 Thompson, or Tommy Gun. He could grab it and jump behind the bar at a moments notice if there was any trouble. He felt someone take the seat next to him, and looked over, almost shocked to see a girl with short dark hair who looked about his age. She plucked the cigarette from his lips and placed it between hers. Blowing the smoke back out into his face.  
"What's a young lady like you doing out so late at night?" he asked, his voice thick with his New Jersey accent, which was a little abnormal, considering the fact that this was New York. "You know thugs roam around this time of night." He suddenly did a double take, he knew this woman. Thalia Grace was her name, and she was the leader of a rival gang. He blinked and swallowed a little nervously. The only reason why she would show up at his bar was if there was trouble. "Miss Grace...I'll make this short. What the hell are you doing in my bar?" he asked.

Her crimson lips curve into a dangerous smile, her eyes shining with malice. Thalia Grace was one of the leaders of the most dangerous gangs in the area. Her scarred hands reached into her pocket, and broke eye contact to make sure she grabbed the crumpled document. Last week, their gang had raided the local beer vendor and the amount stolen was a different number then the ones that were presented. She had to shoot two of her own members to get them to 'fess up, that it was the Castellan gang that robbed them.  
"Well, Castellan," she began, her words coming slow to staunch the flow, "Last week, we stole fifty cases of beer from the beer vendor on 59th. The amount that was presented was thirty. It's simple math, Castallan." She folds her hands together, and looked at him, glaring into his one eye that was still able to see, "Fifty minus twenty. And I have claims that your men were the one who took it from us. And you know how it works."

Luke glared at her, his cold eyes shooting daggers in her direction. Her signature grin was annoying, but it also was enough to charm most men she came across. Even him. He blinked and shook his head.  
"Yeah. We stole twenty cases of the beer you had." he finally admitted, leaning forward a little and resting his head on his fist. He unconsciously rubbed the long scar that ran down the side of his face. A sore reminder of his time as a soldier in the Great War.  
"Business is a little slow. I assume you would have done the same thing, and I also assume that you can get over it." he said, smirking at her.

"I don't think so," she says, her tone staying even and controlled. But her demeanor was so much darker, and she was waiting for her opportunity. She felt a slight whisper of happiness when she realized her smile was even working on him, the famed gang leader who had been a soldier in the Great War. She had been a mere teenager at the time. He couldn't have been more then five years older then her, maybe four. She leaned forward, and snatched the cigarette from his mouth. Throwing it into the bar, she leans closer, as if she were about to kiss him, but it was more a intimidation tactic.  
"You see, those cases were going to someone high above. And, well..." she slowly leans back, glaring at him with her cold blue eyes, the bar lights highlighting the rarely seen freckles upon her face, "Someone is going to get hurt if he doesn't get them. And oh, how we'd _hate_ to see that."

The Great War had taken a toll on him. He was still very young, even now. Just in his late twenties. He leaned back as she snatched the smoke from his lips and threw it to the bar. He felt her lean in closer and he bit his lip softly. This was too close for comfort.  
"They were going to someone high above?" he asked. "Well good for them." he snorted, rolling his eyes. What made someone higher up so special? Oh, look, another little special snowflake who wants his alcohol. It was all the same to him. "Looks we'll just have to see who gets hurt first." he said, scowling.

She pushed the stool aside, as she came to a standing position.  
"Oh, you're giving me the honors of starting? Alright." she says in a teasing tone. With calculated moves she's been planning for ages, she grabs her gun from her back pocket and aims outwards, pulling the trigger. An innocent gang member who has been intriguingly watching the conversation fell back, as blood began to pour out of a pin sized hole.  
"Two days. Twenty cases." she says in a hushed whisper, the entire bar fazed by her actions.

He glared at her. He couldn't stand this woman. He couldn't stand her and her teasing and mocking tones. He shot up as she fired her pistol at one of his gang members, and turned back to raise his fist to hit her. But he couldn't do it.  
"Now that you've gone and shot one of my members, guess who's not getting any beer?" he yelled at her, angry. "Looks like you'll have to find someone else!" he ranted, and soon came to realize that he had no other option but to give the twenty cases back to her. He watched her leave, and looked around the room. He sighed.  
"Go take him to the hospital." he said, pointing to their unconscious friend on the floor. He sat back down in his chair, shaking his head.

A smile decorates her lips as she puts her gun away, and turns to him. Her eyes glow in the darkness as she leans forward, and tilts his head up with her hand. A dangerous move, but it made it so much worse. "Tomorrow. Five 'o clock. Good doing business." Leaning back, she pulled her hand back and lightly slapped him, the smack echoing in the silent bar. Without a word, she walked out of the bar, the winter air making her breath turn into white mist. Turning back for a moment, she winks at the leader, before turning and walking down the alley, snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

Learn to Love Again, chapter two

**A/N: 'Ey! Sorry about the delay! I've been having exams! (reviews every other damn day) and cramming. And literary jam as well. Sorry again!**

The snowflakes dusted her hair, as Thalia Grace prodded through the alleys of New York. Her face was twisted in concentration, as she lifted her skirt to walk through the snow. The confrontation with Castellan was already exhausted enough.

Thalia Grace was famous for deceiving men, and double crossing other gang leaders. Her devious smile was her signature, and her gun, already loaded. A smile crosses her face, as she remembers duping Jackson, Valdez and Di Angelo. They were all men of Castellan's gang, and she led them all on. It was for this, further reasoning that Mr. Castellan hated her guts.

It wasn't her fault she had to steal the beer from his gang, she had to. Circumstance required her to deceive other men, and perform deadly sins. Thievery, lusting, and every other sin under the sun. Not that she minded, of course. She was raised that way. Her Ma had been a singer in the shows, and her father had been a soldier, a general of sorts. God knows how he'd be ashamed to figure out his little girl had become a criminal. He broke her mother's heart twice, and her mother died of heartbreak when she had been fifteen. Imagine that, she became a mother to her brother at fifteen. Having to drop out of school, she had to deal with men to survive, and eventually joined the ranks of the gangs in New York. Her brother, though younger, made his own way. Joining the Great War, he returned several years later, heartbroken and depressed. His love had left him, and he needed a place to stay. Though he was a slight inconvenience, and at that point she was lieutenant to the former gang leader, she let him stay in her apartment with her. He didn't exactly approve of her occupation, but he never told her to stop. Now, he spent his days whiling away in her apartment, a cripple, but not a coward.

Entering the apartment building, she ran up the stairs, avoiding everybody's eyes as she did. It was a known fact around there that she was a crook, but they were always too afraid to confront her. Rolling her eye at a mother who flinched at the sight of her, she unlocked the door to her apartment, and headed inside.

"Jason?" she asks, her voice echoing in the apartment. Her apartment wasn't exactly neat, but it was in some sort of suitable order. She hung her coat on the hook on the back of the door, and set her gun down in the corner. She pulled her sweater closer around her, her rough black hair mussed up and dirty. She reminded herself to shower, as it's been ages since she's showered.

"Yeah, Thals?" he asks, his voice weak. He's been drinking again. She sighs, turning her head to see Jason sleeping on the couch, the blanket pulled up to his chin. A small smile appeared on her face, as she walks over to her little brother and kissed his forehead.

"Hey," she says softly, "How you feelin'?"

"Alright…" he murmured his voice rough and faint. She noticed his forehead was slightly red, and she picked up the bottle, nearly half full.

"Jason, you really got to limit yourself…" she said softly, wincing at the sight of the stains on his blue flannel pajamas.

"Not my fault, Thals…" he whispered, "It's…I just miss her. A lot." A tear slipped down his face, and she wipes it away, her hand brushing against his cheek. "It drowns the pain."

"Jason…"

"It hurts, Thalia…" he says, "Piper…I miss her…I miss her," she watches as a tear slides down his face, "So much."

"Jason, you really got to stop thinking about her," she whispers, before realizing his forehead had begun to heat up. A concerned expression replaces the one of worry, as she stood up and went to find her thermometer. Sticking it into his mouth, she waited for the red meter to hit the numbers, and when it finally stopped, she gasped softly.

"Jason…" she whispers, tears teasing at the corner of her eyes, "103 degrees…You're really sick."

"No shit," he grumbles, turning his head away "I feel like I'm going to die."

She sat there, shocked by the numbers. That would cost at least 100$ in medicine, maybe even medical care. She only had 90, maybe 95. She had to make deals, find ways to get the money…the meeting with Castellan rang in her mind, and she realized, with a dreadful realization, she was going to have to deal with Castellan to get the money she needed for her brother.

"Jason, I promised Ma this," she said, her hand brushing some hair away on his heated forehead, the pained expression on his face breaking her heart, "And I promise you. I'm goin' to take care of you, no matter what."


	3. Chapter 3

Learn to Love Again, chapter 3

_A/N: Hello, again! Sorry for the lack of chapters, as I'm trying to write this by myself at this point. Thanks to you reviewers, so please read and review!_

The next night, a cold, blistering night, Luke Castellan makes his way to the abandoned warehouse, shaking his head. It was freezing, and Travis Stoll was dying. He had been admitted to the hospital several days ago, after the famous incident with Thalia Grace. The fact he couldn't protect his member was killing him, but the idea of the boy dying because of Grace made him murderous. _She_ was the numerator in this situation; he was the unfortunate denominator. It was enough that there was already restlessness in his gang in the first place, but the story of a member dying because their cracked up leader couldn't stand up to a woman would cause a full-scale riot.

Luke cracked his knuckles, his trenchcoat offering little protection against the blistering winds. His face was being whipped by a barrage of snowflakes, stinging the sensitive skin. All he could think about was two things: Travis, and Grace. Travis was one of his associates, and had looked up to him ever since he gained the position of the leader. He was his best soldier, metaphorically speaking, and his twin was just the same. The Stolls were one of the best members of the gang, able to steal with ease without being caught. The night with the beer heist was one of the only times they've lightened up on their skill. He hadn't intended to punish them, as they were one of the youngests, but he assumed this is what they gained from a shady career.

_Grace._ That Thalia Grace. Her annoying signature smile. Her terrifying blue eyes that struck fear into the hearts of thousands. And her amazing career of life in crime. Known for her accuracy in the gun department, she was a perfect shot, technical and an improviser. That smile was known to enchant many men of her choosing, and an equal amount of women. Heading one of the deadliest gangs in New York City was no easy feat, and he knew that. He didn't like her, for sure. He could easily say he hated Thalia Grace, but at the same time, he had to respect her. That was just the way it was in this world, this terrible, rotten world. You didn't have to like each other, you could hate each other. Hell, it was encouraged. But you had to respect people like her, and he knew, he couldn't help but fall a little more harder every time he stared into those eyes

Kicking down the broken door of the warehouse, he took one last look around, before entering the warehouse. The darkness greeted his eyes, cloaking them with blindness. He felt his muscles contract at the prospect of him not being alone with her in here. He hadn't brought back up. Stupid idea, why'd he do that? He shook his head, as his shoes dug into the grounded dirt that served as a floor for the warehouse.

"Thought you'd be late."

The voice of the devil herself.

"I try my best to be on time, unlike you."

He hadn't brought the alcohol today, as he was planning on negotiating with her as soon as he made sure they were alone. But it clearly seems that the negotiation would wait another day, as that voice sent chills up his spine.

"Listen, Castellan, I don't have to be nice."

"When are you _ever _nice?"

"Well, how rude, especially to a lady!" Her snarkiness was one of the worse qualities about her. It could drive a man over the edge if he wasn't careful.

"I don't think you qualify as a woman, _Grace_."

The lights of the warehouse flickered to life, and he found himself standing, isolated, except for her. Standing right across from him, covered from her heel to her collar with a coat, unlike himself. Her eyes were glimmering with malice, as she smirks as his sudden surprise. The sound of the raging winds behind him was unforgivable.

"Forget it," she said quickly, dismissing his rudeness. She stares at her fingernails, inspecting the long, polished nails, "I need the alcohol, Castellan. Double the amount. Fast."

Luke's head began to spin. Double?! He could barely acquire what he already stole! He bit his lip hard, but tried not to let his anxiety show. The uneasiness would only fuel that smirk that was growing on her face.

"Why so much more, Grace?"

"None of your business." she snaps quickly. He couldn't help but notice the fact that she had lines and shadows under her eyes. Women her age didn't get those lines until they were worn and all. She couldn't have been more then twenty, his age at the very least. He had to suspect she was worried, and that only added to his growing confidence.

"I can't do double. Half."

"No way, Castellan. Double or nothing."

"Half."

Silence.

"Fine," she replies, shaking her head. He smiles, not realizing she would be such a pushover. He walked his way over to her, offering his scarred, larger hand. Without hesitation, she takes it, shaking it firmly.

"Pleasure doing business, Grace."

"Pleasure's all mine, Castellan. You'll pay for this."

"And how will you do that?" he asks, almost about to laugh. Barely anybody knew about his past, or about his psychotic mother in the asylum.

"I know about her. _Annabeth."_

His blood ran cold.

_Annabeth._

Nobody was supposed to know about Annabeth Chase, the woman who he had loved, and had broken his heart. He staggered back, releasing her hand from their overpowering handshake.

"And I know you had brothers and sisters, Luke." She began to circle him, watching him begin to break with her words. They were like knives to his chest. "And I know that you're dying inside." _Stab. _"And I know they all denied you because you were a coward."

"I wasn't a coward." His voice was trembling. His hands were curled in fists, shaking with pure aner.

"You left the unit." Her words were torture, but they were enchanting. Her voice was like chocolate, poisoning him with every other syllable, "You let them die. You let them go. You let Captain Jason Grace and his unit to die, because you were afraid."

No. She wasn't supposed to know this. How did she know? He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the tears that were threatning to fall down her face. Damn, why did her voice have to be so alluring? He wanted to block her out, shut her out, but it was so beautiful, the way her mouth shaped them into words of hatred...

His hand lunged for his Colt, hidden under the belt of his coat, ready to blow her brains out. Hell, if she was a man, he would've killed her by this point. But he couldn't kill a woman. Even if she was the devil with lipstick. His hand relaxed as soon as his fingers curled around the handle. He knew she was standing right in front of him, basking in his misery. Instead, he pulled his hand back, and slapped her sharply, letting all his force transfer to his hand.

Her reaction was immediate. Quicker then he could've pulled out his own, she pulls out a Colt, loaded and ready. He knew she was carrying a gun, he always knew she was going to carry one. If you didn't around this area, you were an idiot. He was expecting it. He let it rest against his temple, staring down at her. Her eyes were no longer glimmering, but filled with such hatred and anger.

"I'll shoot."

He knew she would. He knew she could. He wasn't going to run anymore. He took her wrist, holding her hand there, before slowly moving it down to his chest, and letting it rest over his heart.

"Do it," he whispers hoarsely, "Break it even more."

Her body seemed to stiffen when he whispers his words. He watches as her index finger tightens around the trigger, and he prepares to say goodbye to this bitter, terrible world in which he lived. Instead, he felt a sharp pain in his gut, and he falls upon the ground, the pain growing stronger. She must've moved her aim to his stomach, planning on letting him bleed out.

He opens his eyes briefly to see her holding the gun with little remorse in her eyes. The last thing he hears is his name, and he slowly fades, letting the darkness consume him

_There's the chapter for today! Please read, review and share! Lots of love from Ramonks33, and stay awesome!_


	4. Chapter 4

Learn to Love Again, chapter 4

_A/N: Hey! Inspiration came sooner then I thought, so here's a chapter for you guys! Lots of love to my reviewers, so don't forget to share, and be awesome. You are awesome, by the way. I love you. Don't forget that, kay. You're hella. _

Whirls of smoke block the man's vision, as he take another swig of scotch. His hand shakes as he raises the glass to his cracked lips, but he savours the harsh liquid. It burns the back of his throat, but he doesn't complain. Everything he can do to forget the pain.

"Hey, Perce! You done with that drink or do the rest of us have to wait till we get our own, too!"

Percy Jackson turns in his seat, his eyes having the likeness of a wolf, staring deeply into the challenger's. His hands fold themselves into fists, but he tries his best to uncurl them. One more death and he'd be locked up for sure.

For Percy Jackson, life couldn't have been crueler. Born deep in the life of crime, his father forced him into the business of drugs and alcohol. His father was the founder of the current gang he was enforced in, the Castellan gang. Second in command to Luke Castellan, who at the moment, was indisposed. Something about the Grace Group. He had insisted to his boss that he shouldn't go, but as Luke was, he ignored Percy and placed him in charge for the moment while he went to deal with Miss Thalia Grace, a woman who was the very definition of the word "bitch".  
Women were the last thing Percy Jackson had wanted to deal with. His most recent affair, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, had ended disastrously. She had become his mistress a year ago, and since then, he was half the reason the "company" was losing money. He had tried his best to please her with the expensive jewels and dresses he paid others to steal, and in the end, it hadn't been enough. Their adultress relationship ended with her about to leave him for England. Unfortunately, they still haven't linked the dead body to one Percy Jackson, who had been kind and strangled her before she revealed their secret relations.

"Just ignore him, Percy," the voice by his side spoke. He turns his head, his neck cracking from it's stationary position, to see a younger boy by his side. Only about four or three years younger. Nico Di Angelo was working on a beer, staring straight ahead. One might question why such a young boy (only 18) was dealing with this life willingly, but few knew the real story. At age 16, his sister was murdered by a prominent member of the Castellan gang. Raped, then murdered. Nico had promised to himself he'd avenge Bianca's death, and now, he was the reason why Chris Rodriguez no longer walks the plains of the planet.

"When you got idiots like that," Percy sighs, taking another quick taste of the Scotch in his glass, and he wipes the liquid on the back of his hand, "Who really bothers to listen to them."

"You listen to me."

"Yeah," Percy says, a smile growing on his five 'o clock shadow, " 'Cause you're not an idiot."

The bar that night was filled to the brim, men and women of questionable statuses milling around. Percy himself and Nico Di Angelo were perched at the bar, taking their rounds of drinks with the money they didn't rightfully earn. At the corner of the bar, Leo Valdez, an illegal immigrant, was speaking to another immigrant who was responsible for the blood of many fallen men, Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano. Charlie Beckendorf was making a deal of adultery with the Countess, Silena Beauregard, giggling and offering her as much money as Luke himself stole in a year.

The howling winds outside surrounded the bar, but the inhabitants inside were oblivious to the winds, until the entrance doors to the bar slammed open, silencing the bar. The person who stood with the backdrop of winds and cold was a woman for sure, by her stature. Grey eyes peered into the soul of every living being in the bar, and with a step forward, her persona was revealed in the bar's dimlight.  
Long, bright blonde hair was gathered together tightly in a ponytail, partly damp because of the snow. Wearing men's trousers, the rest was concealed by a long black men's coat. Hands stuck in her pocket, she enters the bar, the residents staring at the estranged person.

"I demand to speak to the current man in charge of the Castellan gang."

Percy, stunned by her sudden appearance, came back to life as he slowly wiped some Scotch off his chin and came to a standing position, staring into the challenger's eyes.

"That would be me, if you're wondering." He slowly walks over to the woman, having to look down to meet her eyes. He is taken aback by her dauntless attitude, but he shouldn't be, really. Crossing his arms, he bites his lip, waiting for what she had to say.

"What I have to say may be shocking, even a lie. But today, I tell no lies to you...fine people," she says, wrinkling her nose. "Your leader, Mr. Luke Castellan, will be indisposed for the moment. I have orders to tell you that he will be gone for awhile, so rely on your current leader."

"And you, darlin', have any idea of what happened to him?" Percy questions, his tone on the verge of a growl.

"No idea. I had my orders."

"Who d'you work for?"

"Wouldn't you love to know."

"I would, actually."

"Thalia. Grace."

Silence.

"What's she done to him?" Percy demands, grabbing the woman's arm roughly, "Tell me what that bitch did to our leader?"

"I don't know." She meets his eyes with a glare to match one of a wolf,or his own. He almost frees her, but his grip tightens as he leans even closer, baring his teeth.

"I bet you do."

"I don't."

"Why should I even believe your truth?"

"Have I ever a reason to lie to you, _Jackson?"_

"I've never even known who you are."

The woman stares at him, slightly taken aback. After a moment's hesitation, her free hand curls into a fist and propels itself into Percy's gut. Having taken blows like this before, the man manages to recover quickly, but finds his hand twisted behind his back, and the woman's arm around his neck.

"Think deeply, Jackson. You really do."

Releasing him, the strange woman saunters out of the bar, leaving the members in shock, and Percy himself out of breath. The first to rush over to him is Nico Di Angelo, who helps him to his feet.

"You alright, Percy?"

Wheezing slightly, he manages to quiet his uneven breaths, as he closes his eyes, knowing who it was. He meets the dark, empty eyes of the boy, who watches him with such anxiety.

"Yeah..." he whispers gruffly, "If someone informed me I'd be seeing that girl again, I would've cleaned up a bit."

"Who in Hell's name was that?" The question came from the corner of the room, laced with a thick spanish accent.

"Annabeth. Annabeth Chase." Someone else answers. Percy thinks for a moment it's Charlie, but he realizes it's Otto, his least favorite member. "A woman Jackson regrets deeply."

"Shut up, Otto."

"Why should I, Jackson?" Otto stands, taking over the room. Percy raises his lowered head to see Otto holding a gun above his head, speaking with such power nobody can help but listen.

"You see what's going on? Our leaders are weak! Luke himself is indisposed, meaning he's probably fucking around with Grace, and Jackson over there falls weak at the sight of the woman who stole his heart!"

"Shut-"

"We need leaders! We need actual leaders for this war!" Otto yells, beginning to walk around the room. Placing his hand on the shoulder of Will Solan, who is watching, mystified. "If we want to escape the fuzz, we need real leaders! We need people who don't fratenize with the enemy!"

"Yeah!"

Collective shouts of agreement began to arise in the bar, and soon, every other man was yelling of rebellion and defiance. They were convinced by Otto's words. They were convinced they needed to rid themself of Jackson and Castellan. That they would be free men and rob and steal all they want.

'Organized crime is no easy feat,' Percy thinks to himself, as Nico helps him into the winter night, escaping the men who began to point their guns at the heart weakened man, 'But it's real crime when real idiots think they can lead when they've no real heartbreak.'


End file.
